And the Bitterness of Victory
by preciselypotter
Summary: When the war is over. One-shot, sequel to "It Always Starts in Cokeworth," AU. For Lindsey.


**And The Bitterness of Victory**

…

**1**

"We call this session to order," Bartemius Crouch announced over the murmurs of the crowd. He banged his gavel once, and then twice when the noise did not cease. Eventually, the onlookers quieted. "Please bring out the defendant."

Lily leaned against James, gripping his arm as the two Dementors entered the chamber. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for their prisoner, whose sallow skin looked even grayer between his jailors. A drop of sweat fell from his hooked nose, and the moment he sat in the chair thick chains wrapped around him, strapping him in place.

"Severus Snape, you stand here today accused of multiple charges of murder, torture, Muggle-baiting, and severe violations of the International Statue of Secrecy," Crouch read. "How do you plead?"

Severus opened his mouth, licked his lips nervously, and croaked out, "Not guilty."

The crowd tittered.

James leaned over to whisper in Lily's ear, "He's never been a very good liar, has he?"

Lily bit her lip.

She didn't want to be here; she'd long come to terms with Severus' path in life, with just how far he'd sunk into the Dark Arts, but that didn't mean she wanted to watch as he was prosecuted for his various crimes. It wasn't vindicating for her, perhaps in the way it was for James. Not even after…

"We have eye-witness testimony that proves you casted the Killing Curse that killed both Marcus Dorster and Fabian Prewett," said Crouch, frowning at Severus. "Furthermore, when testing your previous wand, submitted by Mrs Potter, we found you also used the Killing Curse against Frank Longbottom, and used the Cruciatus Curse multiple times. Do you deny this?"

Severus' eyes flitted around the room until they met Lily's, and her heart stopped in her chest at the despair she saw there. She offered no comfort for him, however; instead crossing her arms in front of her protectively.

"I do not deny it," Severus rasped, "but I was…under duress—"

"Yes, I see here you claimed to be protecting another person with your enlistment," Crouch observed. His tone was so sharp it nearly cut the air. "The same Mrs Potter who submitted your previous wand, nee Evans. According to her prior testimony, you were quite willing to sacrifice the life of three others, including two-month-old Neville Longbottom, in exchange for her safety, two years prior."

A fresh outbreak of mutterings occurred at the mention of Neville's name. One month later, and the mere mention of Neville Longbottom was enough to stir an entire room.

Crouch continued, raising his voice over the sounds of chatter. "Since then, Mrs Potter has fought many times against your fellow Death Eaters, and since her own personal safety has been on the line for countless occasions where you did not step in, I am convinced to denounce your claim as invalid."

The chains rattled as Severus pulled against them. "I only did it to protect her!" he pleaded desperately, spit flying from his mouth. He looked to her again. "Lily—you've got to know—"

"The defendant will _not_ address the attending witnesses at this time," snapped Crouch.

James reached over and patted Lily's stomach, possibly sensing the nausea that had risen within her at Severus' words.

If he could claim to have murdered and tortured countless innocent people on her behalf…Lily didn't want that burden on her conscious. How could he dare lay the responsibility at her feet? She, who had spent the last two years fighting to prevent those very things? How could he claim it was for her sake when she countered him at all possible opportunities?

"Do you have anything else to say in your favor?" Crouch demanded of Severus.

"I…I can give you names!" he cried as his face turned white. "Lucius Malfoy! Rabastan Lestrange! Rodolfus and Bellatrix Lestrange! Marcus—"

"We have those names already, thanks to Igor Karkaroff," dismissed Crouch.

"And all of them are caught, anyway," Sirius muttered from behind Lily and James, sounding rather pleased with how the trial was proceeding. "Bloody useless, isn't he?"

"Since you have nothing more to give us—"

"_NO!_"

"—I hereby pronounce you, Severus Snape, guilty on all charges—"

"_Please!_"

"—and condemned to serve six consecutive life sentences in Azkaban, with no hope of parole."

The chains locking Severus to the chair dropped suddenly and clattered to the floor. The two Dementors returned and flanked his either side, each reaching out a cold, clammy hand and grabbing his wrists. They pulled him, in their gliding, seeping way, out of the courtroom and through the door from whence he came. The second the door shut, the room exploded with conversation.

All around them, the audience was standing and stretching; though it was the last trial of the day, it was also the most hotly anticipated since Severus had killed a Longbottom, and the majority of the onlookers had waited for hours just to see his conviction. A queue began to form at the doors to the courtroom as the witches and wizards began to shuffle out.

Lily hesitated, uncertain if she would be able to move about in this ruckus. She pulled on James' sleeve as he began to rise, and he looked to her curiously.

"Not yet," she said quietly.

"Are you alright?" he asked, looking her over anxiously.

She nodded. "Let's hold off for a moment. Not just for my sake, either," she added, inclining her head back toward Sirius.

"Oy, are you mollycoddling me?" Sirius demanded, sounding quite miffed. "I'm just fine, Evans, thank you!"

"Potter," Lily and James corrected in unison, turning to give him identical wearied looks.

"Nah, still too weird," said Sirius, shrugging. "It's only been three months; give me some time, would you?" He began to stand up awkwardly, stomping his crutches around until he found the proper height and balance for himself.

Lily's chest tightened. She had promised Sirius she wouldn't fuss over him…but he made it so difficult, what with his determination to do everything himself, even if he couldn't possibly manage. His pride had not lessened even though it had taken a blow.

"Damn pin's come undone again," Sirius muttered, glancing down at his left trouser leg. "Ah, never mind. I'll be home soon anyway." The empty trouser leg swished back and forth as Sirius began to swing forward on his crutches, nearly tipping over twice as he moved over to the stairs.

They watched him go. Lily saw James grimace, no doubt wishing he could rush to Sirius' side and aide him down the steps—but they both knew he would not accept help.

Lily began to stand up as well, reaching behind her to counter her weight. James saw this and quickly rose to his feet, putting one arm behind her back and the other grabbing hold of her elbow to help her stand. When she'd gotten to her feet, he began brushing at her clothes nervously.

She pushed him away, snapping, "I'm not fragile, James, I'm pregnant."

"Pardon me for worrying," he said in his half-mumble.

Upon seeing his dejected face, Lily softened. Of course he wanted to look after her; the least she could do was let him, unlike his dearest friend. And his was his child growing inside her womb.

"I know you mean well," Lily told him. She reached up a hand to his cheek, ignoring the prickle of his five o'clock shadow on her palm. "I'm grateful for your help, I really am. But, James, if you treat me like an invalid, I will not hesitate to throw you down the stairs."

"What a horrible thing to say to your husband."

"I'm just giving you more chances to say that," she teased.

"What? Your husband?" A giddy grin sprouted on James' face, and he turned his head to plant a kiss on her palm. "Tell me honestly, am I your favorite husband so far?"

"Hmm…" Lily pursed her lips and pretended to be deep in thought. "More than my gay husband who had me cook dinner for his lover every week? I'd say yes, but on the other hand, you did knock me up out of wedlock."

James chuckled. "Ah, yes. When he gets old enough to ask those sorts of questions, the official answer is we were already happily married."

He reached up and grabbed her hand, locking their fingers together and leading her down the aisle to the stairs. The courtroom had almost completely filtered out now; Lily could see Sirius exiting through the doors on his crutches, forcibly making room for himself between the able-bodied witches and wizards shuffling along.

"Are you alright, though?" James asked her suddenly, catching her off-guard.

"Hm?"

"About the trial…" he gestured to the now-empty chair on the courtroom floor. "It can't have been easy to watch. I didn't think about it but—"

"I'm alright," she assured him. "After what he did to…well, not just to Sirius, but after everything, it's good that he's locked up in Azkaban. Or will be within the hour."

James stopped her at the foot of the stairs and put his hands on her waist. "It's not wrong to be upset," he said in a gentle voice. "I'm not Sirius, I won't take you to task for it."

"James, my love," said Lily as she put her arms around his neck, "do you really think I would hide anything from you out of fear of scolding? Me, the woman who can and has frequently taken you to task for _trying_ to take me to task?"

"…Fair point."

She kissed him.

It was still a revelation, a miracle even, to kiss James Potter in public. Two years since she first kissed James behind a closed door, with a ring on her finger from another man, and the press of his lips against hers still made her dizzy. She leaned on him for support, the six-month bump in her belly keeping them further apart than she preferred.

Which reminded her… "It's a girl," she murmured against his lips.

"What's a girl?" James breathed.

"You said when _he_ gets old enough," Lily repeated. "Our baby, it's a she."

"I'll believe it when I see it," he said. "Come on, let's go home; I don't want you to be tired during the funeral tomorrow, and since you've started waking up in the middle of the night you need to start sleeping earlier."

"Hm, yes, that was my primary concern too."

He shot her a look. "Lily—"

"I know, I know," she sighed. "Fine, then. Take us home."

…

**2**

There were two ceremonies. The first one took place in the early morning had was held only for family and friends. The second was to be held mid-afternoon for the general public, for well-wishers and mourners who'd never even met Alice Longbottom, but nevertheless felt it necessary to express some sort of grief aloud, as if their opinion somehow mattered.

Lily and James weren't going to the mid-afternoon ceremony.

They arrived at the cemetery a little after eight in the morning. Mist still clung the ground, though as they moved through the rows of headstones they cut a trail in their wake. She had her hand wrapped around his arm, treading carefully on the uneven earth.

James seemed to be even more aware of potential holes where they walked—he would be, after all; he had come to this cemetery many times before in the last four years. He guided her with a somber caution she allowed for the sake of the baby.

Two people already stood at the twin headstones. One of them, an elder woman with a large hat with a black tulle veil; the other, reaching up to hold the woman's hand in his own small fingers, dressed in a suit and tie that looked awkward on his two-year-old body.

"Mrs Longbottom," James said in a hushed voice as they neared the pair.

"Ah, James," said Augusta Longbottom, lifting her eyes from her daughter-in-law's headstone. "Thank you both for coming."

"Of course," he told her. James removed his arm from Lily's grip and crouched down. "Hello, Neville."

Neville didn't reply.

The last month, Neville had not spoken, which was understandable, though worrying. A previously talkative and inquisitive child, it appeared that watching his mother die right in front of him had taken its toll, not to mention the still scabbing scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead.

Neville's blond hair hung in front of his face. Lily had no doubt that Mrs Longbottom brushed it over the scar, to spare the boy some stares. It was a kindness she didn't entirely agree with; the stares wouldn't stop and sooner or later Neville would have to get used to it.

Then again, he could stand to wait a few months.

"How are you, ma'am?" Lily asked Mrs Longbottom, while James tried to pull a response from Neville.

"Oh…it's hard," the woman said with a sigh. "Women my age don't usually look after toddlers, and I certainly didn't expect to be raising him. He's a good boy but I worry—" she cut herself off, looking down at Neville in concern.

"He'll come back," she promised Mrs Longbottom. "He's a strong boy."

"…I hope so."

James stood up, putting a hand on Neville's head and ruffling his hair affectionately. The scar on the boy's forehead peeked out from behind the muss, and Augusta Longbottom swooped down to make the fringe lie flat.

Lily glanced away and her eyes caught sight of another figure approaching. "Hestia's here," she murmured. James turned his head and she heard his breath catch in his throat.

…

In the end, a little over twenty people bore witness to the morning ceremony. About twelve of them were the surviving Order members and allies, Albus Dumbledore included, and the rest were Longbottoms or Janeways.

It was rather startling to look around the mourners and see how many were missing. In the past two years Lily had had quite a few friends and allies perish in the war. Members had joined the Order and died quickly, or held on while more experienced witches and wizards faced down Voldemort and paid for it with their lives.

She had not attended many of the funerals—some, she didn't feel she had the right to enter, and for the others…well, counting headstones would only sow fear in her, and until a month ago Lily had no room for fear. This one, though, she really couldn't decline, nor did she want to.

Alice Longbottom was dead.

What an alien thing; Lily had nearly convinced herself that Alice could not—_would not_—die at the hands of Voldemort, not after all the times she'd escaped him. But she could not escape forever, as it turned out, and a world without Alice seemed cold and gray even in the throes of spring.

James was made to speak a few words; as Neville's godfather, it was expected of him. He also spoke on Lily's behalf as fellow godparent, for which she was thankful. In the end, she'd never really become friends with Alice Longbottom after all and didn't know what to say to a group of people who'd known the woman her entire life.

A dull sorrow built up in her chest as the ceremony went on. Lily kept her eyes on the twin headstones, examining Frank's name next to Alice's. A pity one had to live on without the other. Lily couldn't bear to imagine it, but selfishly, she wished Alice had stayed longer because it simply wasn't fair to leave before Lily could get to know her properly.

It wasn't even on Neville's behalf, and she was ashamed of herself for thinking such things.

The moment the funeral ended Lily took off down the rows of headstones in search of privacy. Walking on her own was a challenge, though thankfully she could still see the toes of her feet when she looked down. In another month her belly would obscure her view of her legs and she would have to lean on James all the more.

He would probably love that, she acknowledged.

Lily stopped walking after her feet began to ache, which happened frequently these days. She glanced around the cemetery, expecting to be lost, but glanced at the headstone to her left and discovered she knew exactly where she was.

Headstone wasn't the right word for it; it more of a plaque.

"Hello, Peter," she murmured. "It's been a while."

Lily stood there for a while, lost in thought. Her back ached and she needed to pee but she didn't want to leave here just yet. She put her hands to her belly and felt the warmth of her unborn child inside her.

"I suppose we have him to thank for that," said James behind her in his usual half-mumble.

"In a way," she conceded.

James stepped up beside her and put one hand atop her own, holding the pair of them in one broad palm. As always, the baby kicked inside her at James' touch. It didn't matter if the touch was indirect, this child knew her father well.

That was the sort of magic no witch or wizard could explain; Lily didn't think she wanted an explanation. She was happy with the mystery. At least, during the moments she wasn't loathing the side-effects of pregnancy.

"I spoke with Hestia," James told her after a moment.

"She was asking about him again."

"Yeah." He shifted his weight and wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, squeezing tightly. "I almost wish I had news, if only for her sake."

Lily nodded. "I still think we should lie to her," she replied. "Say he's gone off to the Congo or something."

"For all we know, that's what he's done," James pointed out. "If we send her on a wild hinkypunk chase and she ends up finding him that'll do no good for anyone."

"I know," Lily snapped, and then relented, leaning her head against James' shoulder. "I do wish he'd come home, though. It's been six months already."

"He won't," said James decidedly. "Not for a while, anyway."

Lily felt the trembling come back into her limbs, the one that hadn't fully gone away since that night.

"He shouldn't feel guilty," she whispered as tears formed in the corners of her eyes. "Peter deserved to die after everything he did. Remus shouldn't feel guilty for it."

It was the three of them, after all, who were responsible.

They shouldn't have followed that lead, not the night before a full moon. Or if they had, either James or Sirius should have stayed behind with Remus for the transformation and not let him come along.

But he did come along, and here was the result before them, a little plaque with only a name and lifespan inscribed on it. That was more than Peter deserved, but it had been for Mrs Pettigrew in the end, who had pleaded for that small thing to stand over Peter's ashes in this cemetery.

Ashes, because James and Sirius had burnt the body. Ashes, because the evidence couldn't just be buried, it had to be obliterated.

_Peter Pettigrew  
12 April 1960 – 31 October 1981_

He really hadn't lasted that long after all, despite joining the Death Eaters to prolong his life.

"Do you think Remus loved her?" Lily asked, turning her mind to pleasanter thoughts.

"Hmm? Hestia?" James considered this for a minute. "You know, I don't think so."

"But she's always asking about him," she mused. "If they weren't…_something_…wouldn't she have stopped by now?"

"I think…I think Remus hasn't ever let himself love anyone like that," he said slowly. "Something may have happened between them but I don't think…no, he wasn't—he _isn't_ any good at keeping secrets from us."

Lily pursed her lips to keep from mentioning James' slip.

"I hope Hestia stops asking about him soon," she admitted. "Is that horrible?"

"A bit," said James, "but I hope so too."

They looked down at Peter's plaque. Lily's head swam with thoughts of Peter and Remus, and the night she had finally seen the wolf in Remus that he hated so much. She'd been afraid of him, deathly afraid—and ashamed later, because she always promised she would never fear him and it had turned out to be a lie.

In the end, it was the pressure on Lily's bladder that prompted their conversation to continue.

"I'm about to wet myself," she confessed with no small amount of irritation.

James snorted. "Well, don't do it here!"

"Take me home," said Lily. "Please."

"I want to stop by Gideon's grave before the public gets here," he insisted. "They'll swarm all over his headstone and I won't have a decent moment to say goodbye."

_He's not going anywhere_, Lily nearly snapped, but bit her tongue. Pregnancy seemed to bring out the worst in her.

"I'd like to come back tomorrow," she said instead. "It'll be nice to see what people left for him."

"I'm not sure it'll be kind things," James muttered darkly. "They might blame him for letting Alice die."

"They won't," Lily assured him, "but if they do, we'll come back tomorrow and clean up any mess they left."

He dropped his arm from around her shoulders and stepped away slightly. Lily felt a twinge of hurt at his distance, but quickly forgot it all when James extended his hand to hers and laced their fingers together.

"I'm glad we're alive," he mumbled. "Even if everyone else is dead, I'm glad we're alive."

…

**3**

Lily woke from a deep sleep by someone shaking her roughly. Even in her drowsy confusion, she knew the hands that roused her didn't belong to James.

"Oy," someone hissed by her ear. "Oy, get up!"

"Hm?"

"Get up now!"

She pushed herself up into a sitting position with some difficulty and wrapped an arm around her middle. The person shaking her stepped back; his figure was decidedly male and as he moved away a sliver of moonlight fell onto his face.

"Sturgis? What's this all about?" Lily asked, before a horrible fear shot through her. She reached out to the left side of the bed and felt only cold sheets. Her sleep-addled mind cleared. "Where's my husband?"

"You've got to come downstairs," Sturgis Podmore insisted.

"My _husband_," she repeated herself. "Where is my husband? Where's James?"

Sturgis threw his hands up in the air and stomped to the door. He pushed it wide open, revealing a faint light coming from the stairwell, before shooting her a glare and leaving her.

Lily listened until she heard his footfalls reach the base of the staircase before moving. Her heart was hammering loudly, echoes bouncing through her fingers and in her ears, panic threatening to swallow her up. The struggle to get out of bed with a pregnant belly, now seven months along, only frustrated her growing sense of helplessness.

She tucked her feet into a pair of slippers (nice ones James had bought for her only a month ago, to accommodate her swelling) and grabbed a robe from the hook on the door. Lily headed downstairs as she awkwardly slung the robe around herself and wrapped it up, arriving in her kitchen just as she was tying the waist sash.

Sirius was seated at her kitchen table in his usual spot, crutches strewn haphazardly on the floor. Sturgis sat next to him with his arms crossed, and behind the kitchen counter Mad-Eye Moody drank from his hip flask.

At least she knew why Sturgis had come to wake her, if not why she needed to be woken—he was the only one of the three with both legs to climb the stairs.

"What are you doing in my house?" Lily demanded of them, her hands protecting her belly. "Where's James?"

"Here, Lily."

Her entire body, which had been cold and tense since Sturgis woke her, melted in relief. She watched Sturgis leap to his feet and run over to her…she didn't know why but he was running sideways…

"Oof!" he grunted as he caught her. "Damn, woman, you're heavy."

"I'm pregnant," she mumbled. She let Sturgis pull her over to a chair at her kitchen table and sank into it, gripping the table's edge tightly. The vase in the center rattled; her hands were shaking. For three horribly long moments, Lily had feared the worst had happened, even though the war was over and she didn't need to carry that terror in her.

James stood in the doorway that led to the sitting room, half his body hidden by the frame. His hair was even more disheveled than usual and his glasses were smudged up and crooked. He looked exhausted.

"Lily…" James said, glancing at her belly in concern.

"Tell me what's going on," she commanded through her dizziness.

James cleared his throat. "Ah…before we do…"

He stepped sideways into the kitchen, moving carefully. His arm was down at his side and gripping something, which Lily soon realised was a hand…Neville's hand. Tiny, mute Neville Longbottom was in her kitchen in the middle of the night, clad in pyjamas and limply holding onto a blanket. His eyes were fixed to the floor.

"Neville…" Lily breathed. James led the toddler to her, and Lily reached down as far as she could past her belly to grab him up. She put him on her lap and wrapped her arms around him.

His body was cold.

"There were…" Sturgis cleared his throat. "Augusta and her husband were out at a dinner party tonight, and on their way home they were caught by…by…"

"Death Eaters?" she finished as her heart clenched.

Moody nodded. "They thought the Longbottoms would know where their master was. Seemed to think he's still alive, somehow."

Lily put her hands over Neville's ears. "Are they dead?"

"Yeah," Sirius muttered. His hands clenched into fists on the table.

There was a long moment of silence in the kitchen.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Voldemort was dead, thanks to Neville—his armies of Inferi and Dementors scattered, his giant allies retreated into the mountains from whence they came, his followers rounded up and imprisoned. How had they managed to kill the Longbottoms? What had gone wrong?

"They…" Sturgis trailed off, clearing his throat. "They managed to force their way into the house and Neville heard the whole thing. We think, anyway. He hasn't said anything."

Lily pulled Neville closer to her, resting his head on her chest. Her belly was squished under his little body but she wanted to warm him. She began to rock Neville back and forth in her arms like she had when he was a baby.

"Do we know who it was?" she asked softly.

"Crouch's son," Moody grunted, and she gasped. "That's how they managed to get close, I think. He and a few others wearing masks. They've probably been revealed now but Sturgis and I wanted to bring the boy here first, before anything else. He's not safe alone."

"Barty Crouch's son?" Lily repeated, her voice faint. "No…we _know_ him…he's—"

"We saw him," Sturgis told her. She turned her gaze to him, and he sighed heavily. "Dumbledore had me watching the Longbottoms, just in case something like this happened but…I saw the boy go in with them and thought it was fine, until I heard the screaming. This is my fault."

No one contradicted him; Lily couldn't bring herself to absolve Sturgis of his guilt, not with Neville in her arms.

"What's going to happen?" she asked quietly.

"Dunno," James mumbled. He finally took a seat in the chair next to her and reached out to hold her hand. Two of her fingers stretched out from her hold on Neville to wrap around his thumb.

Sirius rubbed his face miserably in his hands. "I can't believe it," he said numbly. "Augusta Longbottom…she might have been old but she was fierce as a lion. That husband Alfie of hers not as much, but he could've held his own. I can't believe it."

"They weren't expecting it," Moody reminded him grimly.

"Well…" Lily made up her mind. "Let's get Neville to bed."

She couldn't do anything about Barty Crouch, Jr., nor could she hunt down the remaining Death Eaters or bring back the dead. But right now, she could at least look after this little boy. Since the day she first met him during that awful ordeal in the Potter mansion Lily had wanted to protect him and in this moment that was all she could do.

Lily stood with a groan, her back cracking under the combined weight of her growing belly and Neville. She staggered backward a little before regaining her balance, and turned to head back up the stairs.

Neville's hands gripped at her robe gently as she climbed the staircase, though he didn't say a word.

She nearly turned right at the top of the stairs, thinking to put Neville in the nursery James had prepared for their child, but reconsidered. Neville probably didn't want to be alone right now, not in a strange house after witnessing more of his family's deaths. He needed something to hold onto, and that something right now was her.

"Let's get some sleep," she whispered to Neville as she pulled back the covers on her bed. "We're both very tired, I think."

He looked up at her, and Lily saw with some horror that his eyes were dull and lifeless. Something had broken inside him tonight. Tears sprung into her eyes and she tucked him closer to her, rocking him back and forth.

…

When Lily next awoke, it was morning and the sun streamed through the window. She opened her eyes and saw James watching her with his head propped up, his glasses on and skewed by his hand. He lay across from her, Neville's tiny body between them.

Neville's chest rose and fell in steady, small breaths. He was certainly asleep but Lily didn't dare think he was resting.

"James," Lily breathed.

Her husband reached out and brushed at her cheeks, and Lily felt the wetness between his thumb and her skin. Had she been crying in her sleep? She must have.

"The Janeways will come by later to take him," James murmured. "They're Alice's family, and they're all Neville has left."

Lily's arms tightened around the toddler. "I can't let him go," she whispered. "He's got to stay with us, James. He's just got to."

"We're not his family," he pointed out, not unkindly.

"But he knows us," Lily said. She could feel the tears dropping from her eyelashes now. Her throat was tight. "The Janeways haven't been there for him at all, not like us. He _needs_ me."

"Lily—"

"He's all empty," she began to sob. "Everything he knows is gone. If we don't…they won't care for him like one of their own, you know how that family is. They're cold. He needs someone to fill him up with all the love he can get."

"And you think we'll have time for that?" James countered. He didn't look happy to say it; in fact, he looked wholly wretched. "In two months our baby will be born and we'll be spending all our time with that."

She shook her head. "Wouldn't a younger sibling be good for him? Someone to look after…he won't have to think about everything he's seen so much."

"Lily," James said sadly. "I don't think it'll work out the way you want it to. I'm sorry."

"He needs us."

They stared at each other for a long time. Lily didn't waver; that dead expression Neville had worn last night haunted her dreams and invaded her heart. From the time she had gone to sleep until now Neville had become her son—perhaps not in terms of blood but she knew it in her soul. He was her child now, and after holding him in her arms she couldn't give him away.

And it seemed James realised this, because after a while he looked away and sighed.

"I don't know how we'll do this," he mumbled. "We don't know the first thing about being parents, Lily."

"We're going to have to learn anyway," she reminded him as relief rushed through her. "We'll just start earlier than we thought."

James inched closer and draped his arm over her and Neville. They clung together on the bed, their new family between them, readying for the day ahead and all the days to come.

…

_Fin_

…

_I wrote this sequel for Lindsey (snapslikethis) on tumblr, essentially to detail what came after. The third part took me a long time to finalise because I felt so terrible for ruining Neville's life even more (initially I was also going to kill James but, thankfully, the logistics didn't work)! I hope this serves as an adequate sequel for everyone who was so wonderful about reading "It Always Starts in Cokeworth" both here hand on tumblr _


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